


A Kettle of Hawks

by Rennie1265



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, sword play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennie1265/pseuds/Rennie1265
Summary: Jack finds a new friend to play with once a truce is declared.
Kudos: 1





	A Kettle of Hawks

**Author's Note:**

> Began this story years ago over at the Black Pearl Sails group on Yahoo and is my first attempt at a longer piece although it started life as a one shot. Plots are not my strong suit so goodness knows where this yarn will wander off to.
> 
> I have always liked the character of Norrington for himself and as a foil for Jack Sparrow. This is canon through Curse of the Black Pearl but can be considered AU thereafter as I didn't care so much for the later plot lines. I know the time line in actual historic terms is nonsense but, hey, this is a work of fiction.
> 
> As always, the disclaimer is recognizable characters belong to the Mouse and originals are mine. Not beta'd and all mistakes are my own. I am just learning AO3 so please bear with me.
> 
> The title describes a group of hawks, similar to a parliament of owls, a murder of crows, an exultation of larks, and so on.

_A_ **_Kettle of Hawks_ **

Chapter One: A Playful Zephyr

Ah, Port Royal in the eventide. It was a quiet, mannerly town, at least inland away from the harbour, quite unlike a lively haunt such as Tortuga, favoured of pirates, thieves, and others of ill repute. Even so, amusements could be found through determined perseverance. One such dedicated seeker toddled along, keeping to the byways and shadows; after all, it would not do to draw undue attention to a neck the Crown desired to stretch. It was a roguish figure, with a peculiar uneven gait. A kindly person would consider the walk more suited to the sea than terra firma; one less kind would assume a proclivity for strong drink or other tastes. In this case, booth assumptions would be correct. A keen observer might also have noted a faint musical jingle and a raspy, not so musical, singing accompanying the figure as it minced along.

The dark garbed man came to a halt by the former establishment of the blacksmith Brown, the sign overhead now proclaiming the services of W _m_ Turner, Sword Maker. The muted clash of of swordplay and laughter inside drew his attention and he canted his head curiously as he listened. He paused a moment to refresh himself from a bottle ferreted out from a capacious pocket in his worn justaucorps coat, adding the sweet fumes of fine rum to the odours of the lane. Carefully stowing the bottle away against future thirst, the slender man swayed up to peer through the gap in the shutter, hoping to find something to entertain him on a dull winter's night.

The inquisitive brown eye swept across the Interior of the smithy. The space was fairly well lit with lanterns, candles, and the fire in the forge, the light concentrated around the open space in the middle,of the smithy floor. The smith's donkey was not at its work station, likely bedded down for the night in its shed, but there were other figures to draw the roving glance. At the rear, perched out of harm's way on the steps leading to the quarters upstairs, was a tall fair young woman merrily calling out encouragement and advice equally to one or the other of the two men at swordplay below her vantage point. It appeared that the Governor's headstrong daughter had slipped her jesses again.

The watcher then turned his discerning eye upon the two combatants. The one facing the street entrance was easily recognizable as the proprietor of said establishment, the wavy light brown hair and quick, distinctive movements perfectly familiar to the man outside. The other figure, with his back to the observer, seemed some years older and taller than Turner, with straight dark hair falling messily out of its lacing at the nape of his neck. Both were attired in breeches and sweat-soaked shirts with rolled up sleeves as they fenced and played, intense concentration clearly evident in each lean form. The ringing clash and hiss of the practice blades accompanied the flashes of light glinting from the steel as the swordsmen practiced their elegant craft, along with the laughter and taunts to be found between friends. They paused and the taller man demonstrated a point of technique while Will and Elizabeth both watched closely, then Will repeated the action several times with an added variation of his own. Satisfied, the men faced each other and put the moves into execution.

Outside, the observer's curiosity exceeded his common sense and he slipped along to the rear of the building, making his way in through the back entrance of the upper quarters. He stealthily crept down the stairs to join Elizabeth, first drawing her attention so as not to startle her, and grinned broadly in greeting, the light catching on a couple of gold teeth only partly obscured by the finger held to his lips requesting her silence. She smiled back at him in surprised welcome then her eyes opened wide in shocked consternation as a possible outcome of his unexpected arrival occurred to her. She rolled her eyes and jerked her head slightly several times to divert his attention to the men on the smithy floor. He obeyed her direction but was unable to discern her concern at first, raising a scarred eyebrow in query. The lass's fear abruptly became clear when the elegant, clipped tones of the warm baritone triggered the memory of a tall man, a white wig, and a overly decorated blue uniform, along with a truly nasty recollection of a hempen cravat and a sudden drop.

Jack's dark-rimmed eyes opened very wide as he looked more closely at Will's fencing partner and recognized in disbelief one of the most notorious and feared pirate hunters in the Caribbees. He kept very still and quiet as he and Elizabeth watched the practice continue. Jack had already tested himself against Will's prowess and had wondered where the whelp had learned the formal elements of swordplay; the boast of three hours of daily practice did not explain satisfactorily the young many grasp of classic technique. Of a certainty, it could not have been Master Brown the Smith, a man more at home with a bottle than a fine blade.

Jack's fight had been in the treasure cavern with Barbossa and he had not witnessed Norrington battle with the undead pirates aboard the Dauntless. Intrigued, he watched the quality of swordplay and and recognized some of Will's style in the Commodore; this must be one of those who had taught the boy to use a sword. The why of it escaped Jack for the moment, for what reason would a well-born ambitious naval officer have to teach an orphan boy the finer points of fencing?

Norrington's fencing was another surprise to the pirate. He would have thought the officer would employ a rigid, unimaginative style, as stodgy and stiff as the uniform he wore. Instead, the man's formal training was evident but his rapid adjustment to obstacles and use of terrain and serendipitous objects was of far greater use in the real world. He did not indulge in the acrobatics that had had both Jack and Will scampering merrily along the overhead beams but was agile enough for all that. Jack recognized elements of the newer French style mixed with those of the classic Italian school, the latter emphasizing the down and dirty fighting for survival sword work. Not merely a pretty figure in fancy plumage, then; rather a veteran of many skirmishes at sea and on land, the navy bloke was formidable. Jack felt a growing itch to try Norrington's mettle for himself, not the wisest of temptations given his past experience with the man.

Stroking his beard braids, Jack thoughtfully considered the man who had so nearly succeeded in hanging him, save for the intervention of the two young persons in the smithy. The Commodore was a good man, evidenced by his releasing the fair Elizabeth to follow her heart even though it would break his own. His tolerance of the whole farce of Jack's escapes and hanging, the generosity to allow a condemned felon a day's grace before resuming pursuit, even the kindness shown to Will afterward, all bespoke a depth of character that intrigued Sparrow. Jack had to admit to himself that Norrington's dry sardonic humour was also entertaining when circumstances allowed the indulgence.

The spectacle of the figures at loose play fascinated Jack and, at a lull in the action, to Elizabeth's horror, he cleared his throat loudly enough to draw the attention of the men below. When Will glanced over, his sweating face showed outright shock at their visitor's identity and he looked to the Commodore, hurriedly positioning to block him from attacking Sparrow. Norrington's reaction was more restrained but he had a dilemma of his own to address. His initial impulse was to go after the outlaw who had escaped him but he realized how impolite it would be to lose two friends by attempting to slaughter their pet pirate under Will's own roof.

The tableau was held for several minutes as four minds rapidly ran through possible solutions or outright disastrous outcomes. The Commodore looked at the expressions on the two young faces then met Sparrow's gaze as he, too, finished his inspection. Their eyes held. Jack's face broke out into a wicked sly grin as he bobbed his brows and quirked his eyes, luminous against the kohl, at the young lovers. Norrington was able to maintain a suitably stoic visage but his eyes revealed his appreciation of the absurdity of their situation, the crow's feet at their corners crinkling deeper. 

Taking Norrington's restraint for tacit encouragement, Jack stood and sashayed down to the clay floor, not so fast as to trigger the wary officer into action. Watching Norrington's eyes intently for signs of reaction hazardous to his person, Sparrow stepped up so that he was along Will's port quarter, keeping him as a potential shield, and pressed his palms together, bowing gracefully in an oriental fashion. Will remained tense, rigid with surprise and indecision. Norrington stood calmly during all this, his sword held point down, making no comment other than to raise a brow in gentle inquiry.

"Your pardons, Commodore and Young Bootstrap, for interrupting your endeavours this fine evening. I was merely coming by to see a man about a sword and chanced to hear something what intrigued me and couldn't resist having a little look-see, you see," Jack explained, his hands fluttering in emphasis. "When I observed the whelp was demonstrating his fine sword play, with the fair Lizzie hollering advice, I wished to see who was doing the honours, as it were. I recall William here told me 'bout practicing three hours a day, unlikely as that did seem, but he never spoke of who had taught him as it was clear to me that someone, or some ones, had."

"So you think you know, do you, Sparrow?"

" _Captain_ Sparrow, if you please. After all, you are perfectly aware I do have my lovely Pearl back so there's no need to be discourteous, Commodore."

By this time, Elizabeth had joined the men, flanking Jack on the other side. She and Will exchanged rapid looks and both turned to Norrington to plead for Jack's safety. The tall man looked down his haughty nose at the picture the three made, the two worried faces with the pirate's Puckish visage peeking out mischievously as disjointed sentences flew about.

Norrington's usually restrained sense of the ridiculous could not be held back any longer, the corner of his mouth twitched against his best effort to prevent it. Turning aside to conceal his smirk whilst he regained control of his face, he picked up a cloth on the stand nearest him and studiously wiped down his blade as he inspected it for damage. He looked up from under his brow at the bemused expressions on the faces of his two friends. Jack caught Norrington's glance and easily discerned the laughter lurking in the green eyes and winked conspiratorily, both men beginning to chuckle. They laughed outright as Elizabeth and Will looked first at them and then at each other, matching expressions of confusion on each countenance. Relieved, the young pair relaxed, albeit uncertain how events would unfold.

"James," Elizabeth asked, "for this evening, would you just be yourself, neither the Commodore nor the Pirate Hunter? You both are our friends and we would be loath to see either harmed, especially here."

"Yes, James. After all, you did give Jack a day's head start when he fell off the fort's wall. He's not raided an English settlement or taken an English ship since, just the French, Spanish, and others. He did what he could to stop the undead pirates and remove the curse even if he was not able to prevent the attack on the Dauntless that night." Will added his share to the argument for clemency. "Each of you is a good man and there's no reason to try to kill each other tonight. Jack's only come along to pick up the sword he commissioned a while back then he'll be on his way out of Port Royal."

Jack raised a rather grubby finger to draw their attention. "For the record, I _jumped_ off the wall of the fort that day. Jumped! I did not fall! After all, I am Captain Jack Sparrow. Please to be remembering that, eh?"

"As if anyone would be allowed to forget," Norrington sniped back.

Jack drew his brows down at him in insulted reproof. Elizabeth tried to hide a snicker behind her hand but Jack saw it anyway and frowned at her for good measure. Will snorted at the comment, not bothering to hide his amusement, drawing his own rebuke from the offended pirate.

"Should I possibly agree to this outlandish proposition, and forget for tonight that Sparrow is an escaped felon and neglect my duty to bring him to his appointment with the hangman, what do I get for my part of the bargain?" Norrington inquired, meeting and holding Jack's dark eyes directly while he waited for an answer.

"Ah, a parley, is it?" Jack asked brightly.

"So it would seem," came the prim response.

Negotiations were good, the pirate thought to himself. As long as they were talking and arranging suitable terms, Norrington was not going to attempt a certain pirate's sudden demise. To demonstrate his good will, Jack rootled around deeply into his pocket and brought his rum bottle to light again, sensibly keeping it away from the lassie. He did not entirely trust her so near to his precious rum, considering his previous experience with her; the forge had a good fire banked in it and was far too close for his peace of mind.

Norrington looked down at the bottle, then up at Jack, remarking dryly, "You could at least have brought some decent brandy, considering you were coming to visit a civilized town. One would think you would have been able to acquire some from at least one of the French or Spanish ships you've taken of late. Surely, they would have had something fit to drink aboard."

Affronted at this unsolicited critique of his pirating ability, Jack refrained from answering the insult immediately. He had, in actuality, taken some very fine brandy off a French sloop not a month back but he saw no need to mention this minor detail. Lurching into Norrington's personal space, Jack smiled engagingly up at the wary man, saying, "I'm surprised at you, Commodore, you being a naval man here in Jamaica itself, source of some of the finest rum to be had. Rum is a sailor's drink, as well you know, for under all that weight of wig and braid, you are a proper sailor." Jack's hands fluttered about in descriptive counterpoint to his speech, narrowly missing Norrington's face.

"That almost sounded like a compliment, Sparrow. Are you certain you are feeling quite well tonight?" Norrington inquired wryly, if not altogether solicitously.

"Perfectly fit; in fact, never felt better. Thank you for asking. A lovely new sword all for me own self, good friends, and entertaining sport. What more could a man wish for, eh, save perhaps an opportunity to try out said new blade in good company?"

"Hmm, it would appear you consider me to be entertaining sport, do you? We certainly do not qualify as good friends."

"Perhaps not good friends, yet, but I do consider the company good. I've not forgot the head start you allowed me that day at the fort nor have I forgot how you with your men fought Barbossa's drew that night aboard your Dauntless or at what cost. Had it not been for you, the Black Pearl would have been much harder to save from that cursed crew. Had it not been for you, the whelp and the spitfire here would not have been able to follow their hearts."

Jack's serious words had stripped the humour from the faces of all three of his audience. Norrington, in particular, comprehended the underlying message of what had been said, an acknowledgement of action and loss and gratitude. His striking green eyes held Jack's dark amber ones in a penetrating gaze for a long moment while each man contemplated the other, then he nodded, accepting the pirate captain's words.

"I suppose, under the circumstances, I shall have to rein in my natural inclinations and grant you an evening's visit."

"That would be most kind of you, Commodore. It's not often that I can get in for a visit."

"Surely that is something of a mis-statement, Sparrow. You appear to come and go in Port Royal as you please, despite all our efforts to keep the undesirables out of the town."

"Commodore Norrington, if you cannot manage the Captain, p'rhaps you should just call me Jack and be done with it," Jack sighed in exasperation, wearied of making the constant reminders. "We are attempting to have a parley here and the night is not getting any younger. I propose we four of us have a nice, simple, evening between friends. No pirates. No Commodore. No soldiers. Just a pleasant opportunity to visit and play with Will's pretty swords." Jack peered up at Norrington, hiking his brows in question nearly to the faded red head scarf, hopeful that the stern man, who forgave the two young people the heartbreak they had caused and became their close friend, could find a little faith for a pirate who was also a "good" man.

Norrington looked over the three sets of brown eyes, all three abruptly reminding him of puppies with their innocent (well, one not so innocent) and hopeful expressions. He came to a sudden realisation that he was enjoying himself far too much this evening and actually desired to test Sparrows expertise for himself. He had heard about the battle in the treasure cavern but had not witnessed the pirate in action with a sword. The escapes from the dock and the gallows and the brazen thievery of his Interceptor had shown Sparrow to be a man of quick intelligence and an apparent lack of the brutality shown by most common pirates. Yes, Jack Sparrow was indeed an uncommon pirate, if a confounded pest, and Norrington deemed he was owed something for the theft and destruction of his lovely ship. He smiled benignly at the trio, raising a somewhat leery grimace on Sparrow's bronzed face and tentative smiles on the more trusting faces of Will and Elizabeth. 

"Very well, Jack, we will keep this evening between friends, as it were. Tomorrow noon, then, we will return to business as customary."

"Thank you kindly, Commodore. I was sure you had it in you, if only to satisfy your own curiosity. Must admit I hoped you wouldn't go trying to execute me in front of our young friends here. Now that we have an accord here for tonight, how about a bit of practice with the blades? You must have wondered what it would be like to cross swords with Captain Jack Sparrow, eh?" Jack asked, leaning into Norrington's personal space again.

"I'll admit to some curiosity. I've only heard descriptions of your prowess from Will and It's always useful to find a fresh opponent to fence against. One never knows when the knowledge will prove beneficial," Norrington commented straight-faced, looking pointedly at Jack as he spoke.

Jack stared back at Norrington, running over possible interpretations of that last sentence, not entirely sure the naval officer was jesting or if he was serious. The Navy bloke was proving to have a wicked sly sense of humour, the difficulty being to determine when the man was employing said humour. Jack decided the man was having him on and glanced over to the children to gauge their reactions. Elizabeth was hiding her mouth behind her hand, a muffled giggle escaping; Will didn't even bother to try to disguise his laughter, chuckling at the exchange between their two unlikely friends. 

Stepping back, Jack removed his baldric, sword hanger and scabbard, his coat, and silver-mounted pistol, piling them neatly on a step and crowned the heap with his beloved and battered old leather tricorn. The rum bottle was carefully set down beside them, not without a cautionary look and warning gesture with a long forefinger to Miss Swann to keep her distance from the liquor. Now unencumbered from restrictions to free movement, he took his place across from Norrington in the open space on the floor. He began to raise his old blade in a salute when Norrington looked at the sword and inquired politely, " Was not the purpose of this visit to take delivery of your new sword, Sparrow? If so, would you not prefer to use it rather than your present weapon?"

Jack halted, opened his mouth to remind the man yet again regarding his proper title, then shut it, realizing he was correct. He had come to pick up his new Turner blade. Turning to Will, Jack said, "He has the right of it, William. You did say it would be ready by this date and, really, would you have me fence against the blade you made for the Commodore without my own fine new sword?"

Will shook his head in disbelief, grinned and went to fetch Jack's new blade even as Norrington replaced his practice blade with his own Turner sword, unwilling to face Sparrow with a lesser sword. Will brought the new sword over and slipped it out of its sheath and displayed the superb craftsmanship to the others. The shining blade was of a pattern similar to Jack's old sword but made for his particular hand and reach. The basket guard had enough substance to protect the hand but without excessive projections which could catch at inopportune moments. There was sufficient gold filigree inlaid into the guard to please a pirate captain, the initials J S done in elegant arabesque with a chasing showing a sparrow in flight over the waves above the lettering. The handle was wrapped with fine green shagreen and gold wire for a secure grip and finished with a large cabochon sapphire set into the pommel, the star's rays within catching the light. The scabbard was somewhat plain but well-made of quality materials, a tasteful silver mount extending the guard's design part way down the shaft and completed with the matching end piece.

Jack took up his new sword in his right hand and compared it side by side to his old blade held in his left. The old sword had been a true companion for many years, its fine Toledo steel a testament to the sword makers of Spain and the skills that had come from Damascus and far distant India centuries before. The old sword was of a plainer design and he would not forsake it altogether. The balance of the new sword in his hand was even better than the other; after all, it had been made for him alone. Well pleased, Jack moved back and gave several thrusts and parries with it and finished with a flourish, a broad grin clinging silver and gold in pleasure at his new acquisition, resting the blade over his shoulder. Will and Elizabeth looked delighted with themselves at their friend's smugly satisfied expression. Even the Commodore allowed his humour show with a quirk of a smile at the pirate's antics.

"You need to have the rest of the furnishings to go with it, after all it is a Turner blade befitting the Captain of the Black Pearl," Elizabeth stated as she brought forward the new baldric and hanger, both in fine well-oiled black leather. Jack fondled the leather in sheer delight; the new sword and accoutrements had been well worth the cost and risk of of coming into unfriendly territory under the very nose of the Royal Navy. He held out his new sword and Will pointed out some of the differences between Jack's blade and the one he had made for James. The two blades were similar, sturdy enough for life and death battles but finished with a refinement suitable for more elegant occasions. Each man was well satisfied with his custom sword and admired the master craftsmanship that had created it.

Stepping into the open area of the floor, Jack beckoned to the Commodore to join him. Norrington smiled in anticipation. He had had a bit of a breather so he was ready to try out Jack's prowess for himself. He took his position the correct distance away from the pirate and assumed a ready stance.

"Before you begin, Jack, James, we should establish the rules of engagement here. No killing. No serious wounding. Try to not injure each other. These are not practice ones and each is well-sharpened. This is for pleasure only so please don't forget yourselves and fight for real. Should you think that you won't be able to restrain yourselves, the blunted blades are over in the rack." Will wanted everyone clear on these points and waited until each man acknowledged the terms he set. Elizabeth seconded him and first Jack, then James, gave his consent to her as well. The young folk stepped back and found places to sit that were close enough to see well but out of harm's way.

Grinning cheekily, Jack drew himself up into a formal posture, intriguing James who loved the dance of the swords as well. The latter moved into position, mirroring Jack and they saluted then engaged. Testing each other cautiously at first, the men followed the circle taught in the classic forms, their formal training clearly evident. Stepping with deliberate precision, move and counter move, they worked through several series, watching each other like the hawks they both were. Each man's eyes were alight with gleeful delight at discovering a kindred love for the sword in the other, both quite content to suspend their customary enmity for the present. They were evenly matched, James' longer reach compensated by Jack's quickness and flashier style.

As they became more familiar with each other, James noticed his opponent had set aside his customary drunken sway and slightly mad gestures and was now focused on the task at hand. Jack's typical flamboyance had been abandoned for the more structured style of the ecole. His shoulders were properly squared, posture was correct, the footwork neatly executed. Will's latest masterpiece was controlled by Jack's wrist and forearm, wholly unlike the hacking methods employed by the usual run of cutthroats. Fascinated, James began to test Sparrow's training with moves from his own training, his eyes intent on seeking clues to the puzzle the pirate presented.

Jack parried and counter thrust James' attack and feinted to his left to draw the other open. Not falling for the ploy, James made his own rapid series of cuts. Their swords met, sang, and hissed as the pair pushed each other back and forth across the clay floor. Both fencers were careful to avoid blows that would harm, neither forgetting in his enthusiasm that the blades they sparred with could deal a lethal strike. High ward, low ward, thrust, parry and riposte, feint and lunge, each countered the other's moves with precision, increasing speed as they became more familiar with each other.

Breathing hard, the swordsman stepped back and saluted, ending this initial bout, a look of satisfaction on each sweating visage. Their audience applauded enthusiastically, relieved their two so disparate friends were able to find common ground.

"Thank you for your approval, you two," Jack responded, panting. "That's the best round I've enjoyed since last I practiced with you, Will. The Commodore here is a cut above the usual run of Navy types I encounter."

"Good Lord, Jack, a second compliment in one night? This should be recorded for posterity, though it escapes me where one would post such an entry," Norrington could not resist jibing the pirate in between taking sips of water. "By the by, it seems appropriate if you would call me by my given name. I believe we can leave The Commodore out of this evening's activities," James suggested to his unorthodox fencing partner.

"Why, much obliged to you, James; I'm perfectly happy to leave that stiff-necked fellow out of such a pleasant visit." Jack wasted no time in taking advantage of the offer and needling the other to boot. Norrington merely raised a brow in silent commentary at the comment, a hint of unexpected mischief lurking deeply in his green eyes.

Will had wondered where Jack acquired his skills; it was uncommon enough for pirates to use a sword to do other than chop away at anything in reach. When they had first fought over a year ago, Will had not appreciated then how unlikely it was for Sparrow to use such formal techniques. His curiosity grew and when the two men paused for a breather, Will asked his practical friend where he had learned to fight in such a fashion.

"Oh, over the hills and far away, whelp," Jack avoided answering directly. "I picked up a bit here and a bit there. A great many men out there are bigger and stronger than I am so I had to learn to use whatever I could to gain the advantage." Jack's attention was on his new sword as he inspected it after its inaugural use, satisfied to find it sound.

"That doesn't explain the forms you were using, Jack," Will replied. "I know I picked up quite a lot from observing some of the officers here at the fort and from whatever fencing master I could find whenever I had any money to buy lessons. James took an interest when I was just a boy, after they rescued me from the explosion that destroyed the ship I came out from England on. He aided me in finding a position with Mr. Brown so that I could be useful and learn a trade."

"At first, I wanted to learn to use a sword so that I could kill the pirates that slew my father, at least, as my mother told me he died. Then I wanted to make the best blades that I could to kill them with. James started me out then encouraged me to practice with any others I could find, to experience other styles and opponents, both the good ones and those not so skilled. Since Barbossa and his cursed crew, James and I began to spar again when his duties permit time. It's quite different practicing with him now than when I was a boy and I've learned to appreciate the privilege more."

"The thing is, Jack, I only had the one goal in mind. Watching you tonight, your style is different than I remember it than when we fought. In fact, you and James seem more alike in your fencing than I would have guessed." Will looked at his extravagantly eccentric friend speculatively as Elizabeth stepped up beside him as he spoke.

"It's not just your fencing style that seems to have changed." She stared closely at Jack as she began to,express her suspicions. "When you arrived tonight, you spoke with your usual accent and ridiculousness but you appear to have shed that as well. Just now you sounded much more a gentleman like James or Father or some of the officers. Not at all like your pirate speech we have come to expect. Perhaps I should not be surprised; after all, you did use words such as ecumenical to Father that day when you escaped."

During this exchange, Norrington had inspected his sword and sheathed it after wiping it down with a silk cloth. He quite intrigued by the direction the evening was taking and more than a little amused at the interrogation the pirate nuisance was being subjected to. Sparrow was an enigma; with all the outrageous stories that circulated about him and his escapades, unearthing any crumb of truth was advantageous in a pursuit. James was perfectly content for the nonce to remain a fly on the wall, as it were, as Will and Elizabeth praised answers out of Jack. He really did not wish to draw attention to himself and interrupt their line of questioning as it progressed. An idle thought crossed his mind as he speculated how much Jack may have manipulated the wilder stories from what the truth actually was. He knew from reports that some of the tales had basis in fact, whilst others were as gaudy as their subject. He had indeed noted both the fencing forms and the shift in accent and grammar which tallied with his own suspicion that Sparrow had had some level of education above the common run of criminal.

As the pair questioned their pirate, they pressed closer and closer to,him until he was constrained to step back. Relentless, they followed, gradually forcing Jack across the smithy floor until he ran out of room to retreat when he backed into the wall of the forge. Swaying back as far as he could, Jack peered up at them in disgruntlement, not at all pleased with the teamwork displayed by the courting couple, particularly when it was directed at his own self.

Slipping away from his pursuers, Jack sidled around until he had Norrington's taller form to shelter behind. The notion that Jack Sparrow would need to resort to using the commander of the Jamaica squadron to protect him from the two rash young persons whom had saved him from a short drop et cetera tickled James' sense of humour.

In fact, he found it hilarious and tried desperately to maintain a stoic face, his lips clamped firmly to keep an unfortunate giggle contained. Unfortunately, a slight quiver ac4oss his shoulders gave the game away and the pirate glared up at his back, huffing in disgust. James made the tactical error of looking around at that moment and was unable to restrain himself any longer, a loud snort of laughter inexcusably escaping his control. Jack scowled even more fiercely, opened his mouth, drew a deep breath preparatory to giving the man a piece of his mind when Norrington lost his battle and began to snicker outright, a broad grin displacing the stern official face Jack was more accustomed to viewing.

"Fine lot of help you are, pride of the King's Navy you're said to be. I would have expected you would at least have more decorum than to laugh at a man like this." Jack made his displeasure with Norrington perfectly clear. The Commodore's response to the accusation merely added more fuel to the fire as he sniggered again and then drew first the Governor's daughter and then her blacksmith into laughing along with him, thus compounding his transgression.

In disdain, Jack stalked over to his effects and took a goodly swig of rum with which to settle his ruffled sensibilities. The fresh laughter this ostentatious act drew from the trio disgusted Jack so greatly that he plopped down onto the stairs and proceeded to sulk, looking for all the world like a sullen tomcat which had had its whiskers pulled.

He had more rum, contemplating his ridiculers as he enjoyed the burn of the lovely stuff down his gullet. The three jesters stood shoulder to shoulder across the floor from his perch, enjoying themselves far too much at his expense. Jack had not really had a good opportunity to study Norrington when not in uniform and was somewhat surprised to note that the Commodore was quite a bit younger than he had assumed. The fancy wig and heavy braid had worked with the man's customary authoritarian manner to leave an impression of an older man. Tonight, James had relaxed enough to laugh with his friends and belay his pirate hunting nature to fence with one of said scallywags. The world was indeed a funny old place.


End file.
